The Fragile and Unbroken
by ScarlettSunshine
Summary: What a strange world he wanted to live in. She knew better than to believe you could simply leave things behind. That stone walls could separate realities into neat fractions. These were things that seeped into your skin, your bones, your very mind, and settled in like ghosts haunting empty halls. You cannot escape. Short chapters.Daily updates. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: characters and world belong to the wonderful J K Rowling**

 **One**

Standing in a line-up. Being appraised. God, it's cold. Down to flimsy slips.

Belly empty. Feet bare. Eyes down. Burning stares.

Swirling finger. Turn around. _Slowly._ They want to know what they're getting.

"Granger?"

That's her. She hasn't been called by her name in nearly a year. Hermione Granger. Number 22.

Lightheaded. Bright spots. Ringing pain. Blood.

Harsh voice. Fade in. Fade out. "22. Get up, girl. You've been sold."

 **a/n: there are eighteen prepared chapters right now all short but of varying length, if readers are interested, I hope to update daily. Thanks for reading! Please share your thoughts**

 **Anyways,**

 **Scarlett**


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Granger.

Nott had insisted he'd only be a minute when he requested they stop in at Madam's. His last girl had fallen ill the previous week. He wanted a new one.

Draco didn't plan on purchasing anything—any _one_ —for himself. But then as Nott was busy perusing the younger girls, newly of age, his own eyes landed on her.

Behind the glass, standing shoulder to shoulder with seven other girls, was Granger.

She was dressed in a short, tattered nightgown. Her hardened nipples poking at the thin fabric.

She looked terrible. Dark circles beneath her eyes, deathly pallor, limp, scraggly curls. Her eyes were almost cloudy, like some fog had rolled through her mind and steamed up the windows. She was skin and bones.

"If none of them are to your liking," he couldn't tear his eyes away, even as Madam's voice sounded from beside him, "there are younger, newer girls just there. Halfbloods even."

The line was turning now. As her feet moved, he worried she might break. She was so frail. Her body seemed to sway with the cold draft.

The wide band on her upper arm read 22. "That one." What was he doing?

"Which one, sir?"

He nearly said her name. "Twenty-two." He nodded, then watched as the madam went behind the glass and called her number.

Again, she began to turn. Her eyes were falling shut. She collapsed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Soft and warm.

Soft and warm was something she hadn't felt in ages.

A bed. She was in a bed.

She drew herself up, hands sinking in plush grey bedding, gaze sweeping the small dim room.

Her slip was gone. She was dressed in a clean white nightshirt with long sleeves and buttons down the front to her knees.

She was careful as she got to her feet, her weak legs trembling.

"Miss is awake." She jumped at the squeaky voice. There was an elf. Long drooping ears, blinking bulbous eyes."Mustn't be out of bed," she was saying. "Must rest."

"Where am I?" Hermione inquired.

"Malfoy Manor."

Malfoy.

"Miss isn't well. Master won't like this."

"I'm fine."

The elf gently ushered her back into bed and peeled a bandage from her forehead.

"Wha—?" Her hand came up. Tender bruise. Dried blood.

"Rest now, Miss." The elf pulled the blankets to her chin. "Ditty will be back."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

He hadn't seen her since he'd brought her home. Even then, she was drifting in and out of consciousness, and he was more concerned about the bright blood dripping from her forehead than reintroducing himself.

Ditty had been reporting on her ever since.

She was cleaned, dressed, her wound attended to, and then put to bed. She slept for nearly three days. Only waking a handful of times to be fed broth.

It was deplorable the way she'd been kept. He could count her ribs as he carried her. Her skin was freezing. She weighed next to nothing. When she'd fainted, causing a great gash to her forehead, Madam took a few galleons off her head. Offered to let him choose another girl instead.

According to Ditty, she was awake now. Her wound had healed. She was eating small pieces of bread with her broth. She was doing well.

She wanted to see him.


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: Surprise! Two updates in one day for you lovelies.**

 **Five**

She couldn't say what day it was the morning she woke to find a small stack of books at the foot of her bed.

She called for Ditty.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Did...did your master send these?" she asked.

Ditty nodded. "Master Draco delivered them himself."

"He did?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Can I thank him?" Pulling the stack into her lap, she found herself near tears. She hadn't laid eyes on a book in over a year, let alone read one. She took the weight in her hands with a sob. "Where is he?"

"Master Draco is out for the day," Ditty replied.

She nodded. "Would you tell him thank you from me? If you see him."

"Yes, Miss."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

She cried at the sight of books. He almost wanted to laugh. Granger was still in there after all.

He took his dinner to the library that evening. It was late. He had a bowl of pasta and beef tips and a book on ancient potions, and he was halfway through both when footsteps padded through the doorway.

He looked up, startled to see her there.

"Oh." Her eyes were wide, as though she hadn't expected him either.

"Granger," he returned.

She was carrying the books he'd left for her that morning, her thin arms holding them to her chest. She hung there in the doorway for a moment; her chin knocked the top of the books as she quickly bowed her head.

"Would you like to come in?" he said finally.

Her bare feet moved apprehensively but surely towards him. She placed the books on the table. "Thank you."

"You read all of these?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Today," he clarified. "You read all of these today?" There had to be at least a few thousand pages combined.

She nodded.

He waited for her to say more. To say anything at all. When she didn't, and neither did she look to the door, pulled out the chair opposite him. "Sit," he said.

She paused, her eyes hardening at him, even as she moved toward the chair.

"Have a seat," he rephrased. "And speak freely, Granger."

Her eyes met his then, and he was stunned by how much brighter they were. Her mouth turned up in the tiniest of smiles.

She sat down. "Thank you for the books."

"You enjoyed them then?"

"Yes." She hesitated.

"Go on."

"I was wondering if I could borrow another," she said.

"You can borrow as many as you'd like, Granger." He thought about this. "On one condition," he added.

Her eager expression fell.

"I'd like to see you every evening." When her expression turned fearful, he quickly went on. "I'd like to discuss them with you. The books. Bring whatever you've read back in the evenings."

"Is that all?" she asked.

"That's all, Granger," he confirmed.

He stood, his plate empty and book forgotten. "Not tonight however," he said. "I've had a very long day. Tomorrow."

 **a/n: Happy Saturday, everybody! Thanks for reading, let me know what you think**

 **Anyways,**

 **Scarlett**


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

The following evening Hermione went to the library early. She wouldn't keep him waiting. She'd taken her broth and bread right after her bath and dressed in a clean, white linen gown.

He didn't arrive until hours later, a house elf behind him with his dinner on a tray.

"Granger," he said. For a moment, she thought he'd forgotten he'd asked her to be there. If he had, he hid it well.

While he took the seat across from her, and the little elf served him dinner, she shuffled her stack of books.

She peeked at his plate. God, it smelled delicious. What was that? Roasted chicken, potatoes, grilled peppers. Her mouth watered.

"Did you have dinner?"

Her eyes snapped up at his voice. He'd caught her staring at his meal.

"Yes," she said. She wiped her mouth, fearing she'd drooled.

He eyed her carefully. "Get Miss Granger a plate, please." He gestured at the elf.

"Yes, Master Draco."

Shortly after, she had a plate identical to his and he was raising his fork to her before they tucked in.

She moaned at the first bite, unable to help herself. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "This is amazing."

She was embarrassed at how unimpressed he seemed.

He cleared his throat. "You should have said you wanted something more substantial," he told her. "I assumed you couldn't stomach any more."

She was taken aback by this consideration.

"So," he said, "tell me about what you've read."


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

They were odd, his evenings with Granger. They ate dinner together now and spoke strictly about books.

She was opinionated and certainly talkative, but there was something distinctly reserved and unlike her lying just beneath the surface. She always seemed a little too pliant, sort of frightened, and tense.

It was only their third or fourth evening together when his eyes landed on the scar down from her hairline drawing straight but not quite to her temple. From the day he'd…purchased her.

It had that shiny, freshly healed pinkness about it.

He hadn't even realized his own movement until she flinched. His fingertips were headed towards her forehead to brush over the faded yellow bruising.

He was shocked by her immediate recoil, not from repulsion but self-preservation. She was small in her armchair, burrowed back into it until he lowered his hand.

"I wasn't going to hit you, Granger," he said, keeping his voice even and calm.

She didn't say a word back, just quietly ran her fingers over her injury herself. She sat up. A look of realization, followed by relief, came over her features.

"You're safe in this house."


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

 _You're safe in this house._

She told herself this each night before bed, trying to soothe away the nightmares and heal over bad memories. She couldn't say why she believed the words. After all, he'd yet to tell her why he'd brought her there, and she wasn't quite ready to ask. But ever since she'd been here, she'd been nothing but well taken care of.

She had come to fall into a regular routine as well. She woke, dressed, ate a small breakfast at the desk beneath the window in her room, read a book or two, and then made herself lunch in Ditty's company. He was out during the day—'at work' was all the elves would tell her—and so following lunch, she took to wandering the manor and its grounds before returning to her room. If it was nice enough out, she'd sometimes sit beneath a tree in the gardens, writing or reading as the hours passed until she went in for a bath, dressed in her nightgown and robe, and went to the library.

Most nights the elves would bring her a snack while she waited for both him and dinner. And he always arrived looking a tad, if not very, weary. It was a constant source of intrigue for her to wonder what it was he did during the day, especially on the evenings she was served and ate dinner alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

"What day is it?"

Draco looked at her in confusion, a bite of lamb halfway to his mouth. They'd been discussing a book on fabled potions and the logistics of creating them. He'd quickly learned Granger was as intelligent as she'd ever been once she got her footing back.

She was still staring expectantly.

"Thursday," he said.

Her brows furrowed. "The date, I mean," she clarified.

"Oh. Thursday the second of August then."

She nodded.

"Why?" he asked.

At her answer, he realised what a stupid question it was. "You tend to lose track of the days when there's no daylight."

He'd worried about something like this happening, and he still hadn't decided a course of action for when it did. Maybe it was inevitable.

He was almost hoping she didn't want to talk about it. In fact, it seemed that was the case. She never spoke a word about her time outside the manor walls; he never dared to ask. After all, he couldn't save everybody. There was no sense listening to the sordid tales when there was nothing to be done. It was best she just move on and try to forget the way she lived before he took her in.

It had been silent for quite a while then.

"Where do you work?" she asked.

He put his fork down, finished with his meal. "Granger, I think we'd both do well to let all outside encounters remain outside."


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

What a strange world he wanted to live in. She knew better than to believe you could simply leave things behind. That stone walls could separate realities into neat fractions. Bad memories, experiences, the people you know, you are, you were, they clung to your very person, not to be washed away or sloughed off like caked dirt after a hard day. These were things that seeped into your skin, your bones, your very mind, and settled in like ghosts haunting empty halls.

She knew better than to believe these walls she woke up and fell asleep within were all that mattered. There was still a world outside.

For two days after she asked him about his work, she ate dinner in the library alone. Not punished, she felt, but avoided. She spent the days in the library or walking about on her own. The rainy weather was keeping her indoors, and she could see the storm clouds rolling in.

It was silent and echoey in the corridors, her socked feet hardly making a sound. She'd now been in every single room available to her, all that was left were the few locked doors in the east wing.

She approached his study. It was tempting, very tempting, and each time she passed the large wooden doors she couldn't help but place a hand on the cool metal and try her luck with a slight push down.

Today was no different.

But then.

She was alone. Completely alone. And she wasn't planning any harm, just to satisfy her curiosity.

She closed her eyes, focused her energy. The door swung open.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

She wasn't at dinner.

He called for Ditty to ask about her.

"She's in her room, Master," the elf reported.

"Is she ill?"

The elf looked frightened. "N-no, Master Draco."

He waited.

"Miss says she isn't coming."

Granger hadn't once not shown to dinner. His gut pulled. "Is something wrong?"

"Well...sir..."

"Is she alright?" he demanded.

"Yes...Ditty isn't sure..."

He grew impatient with the elf. "Tell her I'd like to see her."

Ditty disappeared and returned, hands knotted against her bony chest. "Miss says she won't be coming."

"Why not?"

"Miss doesn't want to…to see Master."

In a flash, any concern he had for her turned to anger. "Fine," he said. "Just my dinner then. If she's hungry, she'll join me."

The elf's mouth opened as though to protest, but shut only a second later. "Yes, Master Draco."


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

She was hungry. Not hungry enough to venture downstairs and join him for supper, but hungry enough to ask Ditty if she could possibly have at least some bread. Her stomach had grown used to being suitably full.

Ditty regrettably had to decline her on her master's orders.

Fine. If he was going to starve her out, then he was just the man she thought.

"Why weren't you at dinner?"

She was shaken awake at some ungodly hour; the hunger pangs she'd slept to avoid back full force. He stood over her bed, hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged off his grasp. "Leave me alone."

"Granger, look at me." She couldn't read the emotions on his face. "What's the matter?"

Her gaze fixed on him, hard and steely. "You work for the Wizengamot."

The surprise on his face made her sick. "How do you know that?"

She didn't say a word.

Suddenly it was his gaze that was cutting and cold. "How did you get in my study?"

She scowled. Was that really his major concern?

"Did Ditty let you in?"

"No!" she exclaimed, not wanting to get the elf in any trouble. "No, I opened it myself. By magic."

"You have a wand?"

"Of course not." She stood then, facing him with a ferocity she hadn't truly felt in a long time. "That'd be an abomination, wouldn't it?"

"Give me the wand."

"I don't have one."

"Give me—"

"I don't have one!" she screamed, something inside her finally snapping.

"Granger," he warned.

"Because of people like _you_! _You took my wand_! I haven't even held one in years, because of my fucking dirty blood!"

She was hysterical. "This is all _your_ doing! It's because of you that it takes every ounce of energy I have to unlock a bloody door. No, I don't have a wand! I don't have a wand, I don't have my own books, I lost everything!" God, was she crying?

"Fuck you! Fuck you and everything you've done to me, you lowlife bastard!"

His eyes flashed. "I _saved_ you," he said. "You'd be dead by now if it wasn't for me! Curse all you want, Granger, but you should be _thanking me_."

" _Thanking_ you?" she echoed. "You're the reason I was in that hell! You, and all your damned laws, you took our lives away! And you don't get to stand there and call yourself a hero because you _bought me_ ," she spat. "You're right, I would have been dead and out of my misery if it wasn't for you. How much did I cost you, Draco? What was the price to keep my filthy blood pumping through my veins?"

His voice was low. "Shut up, Granger."

"No! You walk around here like you've done me some favour, some kindness, and yet every time you leave these walls you're still the heartless coward you always were!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

Her hand rose and came at him, but he was faster, catching her wrist in his larger, stronger grip, and pulling her forward.

She screamed in frustration, her face shiny and wet with tears, and her other fist began pounding at his chest.

"Granger, stop."

He felt like crying too, joining her in her gut-wrenching sobs. She was simultaneously fighting his hold to get away and moving forward to pummel his chest with every bit of strength she had. He was stumbling backwards and she just kept coming at him. His back hit the door, which slammed shut with a bang, and then she was collapsed against him, heaving sobs and rasping out "I hate you, I _hate_ you" over and over again.

There was nothing he could tell her; nothing he could do but let her beat her fists against him and wrap his arms about her to hold her up.

"I hate you, I hate you, I—" He could feel her hot tears soaking through his shirt, her staccato breaths wracking through her. "I hate you."

He buried a hand in her hair, closed his eyes. "I know," he said finally. "I hate me too."


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

It was like some kind of hazy dream. But her skin felt taut from her tears, and her throat like she'd swallowed nails. It was a wonder how soundly she'd slept. And where was he now? She'd half expected him to be with her come morning. Being in his arms, sobbing into his chest, this is what she fell asleep to.

She woke to cool sheets and grey skies, her breakfast cold on the desk beneath her window. And then Ditty was there, telling her Master wanted to see her in his study.

She went, head held high and back straight. She'd hardly knocked when his voice told her to come in.

He was behind his desk, a half eaten apple in hand, quill poised in the other.

Without awaiting an invitation, she sat across from him. She almost laughed. The chair was absurdly low; she was staring up at him nearly over the desk. How typical.

She stood then.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Just sit down."

She glared, and instead took perch on the armrest.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

"It's fine." She wasn't terribly uncomfortable.

"No, Granger," he said seriously. "I'm sorry about last night."

She took a deep breath. "That doesn't mean much."

"I know," he acknowledged. "But it's all I can offer you."

"Then it's bullshit," she said. "If you were really sorry—"

"What am I supposed to do, Granger? What would you do if you were in my position?" he demanded.

She was quiet. She didn't know. She never would. She couldn't imagine being in any sort of power in this scenario anymore. It seemed so long ago that she thought she could brave it all, not a doubt in her mind that she would come out on top. What would she do now? What would she do had she anywhere near the amount of power a pureblood like him had in this world?

He was waiting. Watching her with his tired, shadowed eyes.

She shook her head. "I would have never let it go this far."


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

Well that was easy for Granger to say. Such simplicity in her voice. Certainly her life wasn't easy, but she'd never had to hold the burden of power on her shoulders. She'd never felt that weight.

"Why did you buy me?"

Fuck, if he hadn't been asking himself that same question for weeks now. He looked at her, how she eyed him with this careful guardedness, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"I don't know, Granger," he said honestly. "I couldn't stand to see you like that."

"Why?" she asked. "Why me? Why draw the line there? How could you stand everything else but—"

"I don't know," he said again. Did she have to ask so many questions?

She didn't say anymore, just looked at him with this intensity he couldn't handle.

"You looked like you might have given up," he told her. "And I couldn't stand it. I never thought I'd see Granger—you...like you were that day...like there was no hope anymore."

He caught himself then, shaking his head.

"You want to know something?" she said. "I ended up in that place...because a law was passed. All mudbloods are prohibited from taking paid work unless hired by pureblood employers for mudblood wages," she recited.

He closed his eyes. He had voted on that one. They both knew which way.

"So I was out of work," she went on. "And I was living with six other girls in this shoddy little flat in the quarters." She was staring right at him, forcing him to look her in the eyes. It was fucking painful. He willed her to look away so he could do the same without cowardice. But she knew. She knew what she was doing.

"When the quarters were built," she was saying, "we were told they were meant to build community among us. That they were affordable housing for our kind. Of course, hardly anything is affordable when you're not allowed to work. Between the seven of us we could barely afford the one room, let alone food.

"A few of the girls were already working on the street, and when the law passed the rest of us didn't have much of a choice. We joined them."

He felt sick.

"It's a terrifying line of work," she said. "Always in shadows, quick and dirty; it isn't safe. We had no control. Lottie left one evening...and we never saw her again."

"Granger—" He wanted to beg her to stop.

She spoke over him. "That's when we heard about Madam's. A place to stay, food to eat, all we had to do was bring our work to her. It gave us a sense of security." She smiled bitterly. "She had us sign contracts. And then we _belonged_ to her."

He knew what happened next, and he couldn't bear to hear it. Couldn't bear to have his hand in this business confirmed. He stood.

She stood too.

"All mudbloods are hereafter stripped of any witch or wizard status and all rights, freedoms, and privileges granted by such status," she recited clearly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

You've made your bed, she thought, now lie in it.

She pressed on, despite the pain she felt herself, forcing him to listen to how they were starved, how they were sold, how they were beaten for every pureblood complaint.

When she finished she was out of breath, and she finally let him look away.

He put his head in his hands.

"But thank you," she said, "for saving my life. Because I should be thanking you, right?"

"I'm sorry."

She twisted the knife. "Lot of good that does me now."

There was a stretch of silence before he conceded. "I never should have supported those laws."

Hermione nodded. "So I'm not subhuman?" she asked derisively.

He shook his head. "Your blood's just the same as mine."

a/n: I am so sorry I didn't get a chance to update yesterday, but I hope you enjoyed this. Please review

anyways,

scarlett


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

He continued to eat dinner in the library, holding onto some hope that she'd soon forgive him, but thus far each evening she'd taken supper in her room.

It wasn't until a week later that he saw her again.

She entered the library just as he finished his meal.

"Granger," he said.

"I'm here for books," she told him.

She moved about the shelves, and he should have called an elf to clear his dishes and then retired to his room, but he didn't. He watched her and waited.

"I miss your company, Granger." He hadn't realise he'd spoken aloud until she turned.

"Well."

"Join me?" he asked.

She shook her head, something of a regretful smile on her lips.

His heart sunk. "Will you ever forgive me?"

She was quiet; he could read the consideration on her face. "If you ever change."


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

She hated how she missed him. The days grew lonelier by the hour, and if it weren't for Ditty's company over lunch, she may have truly lost her mind to madness.

But Ditty was there whenever Hermione needed her, and she was quite a good friend, though sometimes in a hurry to return to her chores.

When there came an evening when Ditty was late to deliver her supper, Hermione grew worried. The elf hadn't ever arrived with her meal tray any more than a half-second past six and it was now nearing seven.

She wrapped herself in her dressing gown to search for the elf, calling her name as she walked about the halls. She was halfway to the kitchens when Ditty appeared.

"Yes, Miss?" She bowed breathlessly.

"Ditty, are you alright?" Hermione asked in concern, dropping to her knees before the elf to look her over.

"Fine, Miss." She gently swatted the girl's hands away. "Master Draco isn't well, Ditty's been tending to him. Apologies, Miss. Ditty will bring supper right awa—"

"Master Draco?" Hermione repeated. "What do you mean he isn't well? What's the matter?"

Her disproportionately long feet shuffled on the marble. "Ditty must get back."

"Wait." Hermione caught her bony wrist. "Take me with you."


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

He couldn't tell if he was sleeping. His limbs felt like lead, his chest like it was collapsing with each breath, and his nerves were still smarting like they'd been whipped against stone. He had to be awake, he decided. He couldn't possibly feel all this pain while asleep.

He blearily found himself wondering where Ditty had gone.

"Draco?"

His eyelids were too heavy.

"What happened to him?"

Was that Granger?

God, it felt like ages since he'd heard her voice. She was an angel. Was he dreaming?

"Ditty, what happened to him?"

He wanted to touch her, just to see if she was real. Just to see if her skin was as soft under his fingertips as he imagined...

He could hear the wobbly, tentative sound of Ditty's voice, felt her knobby knuckles as she removed the wet flannel from his chest.

The cold air was a shock to his damp skin.

There was a gasp.

"Who did that to him?"

 **Author's Note: the response for this story has been great and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. If this chapter brings us to over 50 reviews tomorrow will see two updates! Just to make Mondays a little brighter (:**

 **Anyways,**

 **Scarlett**


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty-One**

 _Blood Traitor_

The words were burned across his chest, bright red like they were still giving off heat, seared into his alabaster skin, crude and sloppy wand work.

Ditty grabbed her hand before her fingers touched the letters. She hadn't realised she'd moved a muscle.

"Draco?" Hermione said, watching carefully for any sort of response.

He lay still, eyelashes resting on his colourless cheeks, and breathing hardly noticeable.

Ditty was wringing out a fresh flannel, then dabbing gently at the burns. Hermione watched his face contort with pain and instinctively took his hand in hers.

The elf was moving about again, opening a pot of balm and scooping out a generous amount.

"This may burn, Master," she warned.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as Draco's hand nearly crushed hers.

"What is that?" she asked. Whatever was in the salve, it appeared to be burning him all over again.

A moment later he relaxed, and she was stunned to see that the lettering on his skin had healed over to light pink, barely there scars.

"Phoenix tears healing balm," Ditty replied.

Hermione let out a long breath. "Draco? Draco, please, what happened?"

"Miss, Master needs to rest," Ditty was saying, tugging at her free hand.

Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from him, watching for each breath.

"Miss." Ditty tugged more insistently.

"Stay."


	22. Chapter 22

**Twenty-Two**

His voice was hoarse, quiet, and he drew breath and braced to repeat himself, thinking Granger hadn't heard him.

But she must have. Because he was vaguely aware of her presence beside him, a chair pulled bedside, as he fell deep into sleep, and there she still was when he woke.

"Granger."

She sat in the armchair usually kept by the hearth, leaning against the wingback sides, eyes closed. He touched her knee, and she jolted.

"You're awake," she said, soft and sleepy. "Here." She held out a glass of water, and he drank like he hadn't in days. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said. He sat up, suddenly realizing he was only half dressed, and then looking for the writing on his chest.

Ditty had done a good job, all things considered. The scars weren't worse than any others he had. It wasn't quite the branding they had intended.

"What happened to you?"

He didn't know what to tell her.

"Draco?" she prompted.

He was surprised by how warm his name sounded from her lips. It had been weeks of unseeing stares and stony silence.

"I've been let go from the ministry," he informed her.

"Let go?" she echoed. "For...for what?"

"They've proposed a new law," he explained. "Forced sterilization." He couldn't look at her. "For all mud—"

"For all mudbloods," she finished. "They can't do that."

"Who can stop them?"

It was heartbreaking, her expression. Then her mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide and welled with tears. "You," she said. "You...did you?"

He nodded, then shook his head. "I tried, Granger."

"And this is what it got you," she whispered, fingers laying featherlight on his chest.

Eyes closing, he savoured her touch, the pain from the cruciatus melting away to distant memory.

 **Author Note: Wow, so bribery's the trick. It was lovely to hear from readers, and I hope you all enjoyed your bonus chapter today**

 **Anyways,**

 **Scarlett**


	23. Chapter 23

**Twenty-Three**

She saw beauty in those scars. Pain, she knew, but all battle scars come with hurt. Those were words of merit scrawled across his chest. They were beautiful.

She bent and brushed her lips over his cool skin.

He met her eyes.

"Thanks for trying," she whispered.

His hand touched her cheek, her jaw, fingers slipped behind her ear, lips came to hers.

She closed the distance and kissed him soundly.

He groaned, and she jumped back like she'd been shocked. "Did I hurt you?" she asked. "I'm sorry."

"No," he said. "No, come here. Please."

She hesitated.

"Please, Granger," he said again.

She gingerly crawled up next to him and sat up on her knees. "Does it hurt?" she murmured.

"No." She suspected he was lying.

"Who did thi—"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

She took his hand, and he leaned toward her, but at the very last second she turned her head; his lips met cheek.

Her chin tipped down as she mulled through her thoughts.

"What is it, Granger?" he whispered. "Too far?"

She shook her head. "Did you do it for me?" she asked. "Did you take that risk for me?"

He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking it over, and she prayed he'd give her the answer she needed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Twenty-Four**

Did he do it for her?

He thought back to that moment, when he sat in the chambers and heard the proposition. The way it suddenly hit him hard, that this was a law that was going to affect people. People like Granger. There were men and women, young and old, and he could see Granger's face as she sobbed and pummelled his chest, he could hear her telling him about the girl who went out to sell herself and never came back, how _he_ did that to her. How he did that to _them_.

And he knew couldn't agree to this one. He wouldn't do it anymore. He wouldn't, couldn't, pretend he had nothing to do with it when he knew. He knew that he had _everything_ to do with it.

And when Pucey, who had submitted the law in the first place, cornered him in his office, flanked by Nott and Flint, he told them just what he thought of their notion. He saw Granger's smile that evening in the library just before they _crucio_ -ed him. He thought of _her_ pain, all that _she_ had endured, while Pucey and Nott pinned his arms and Flint dragged his burning wandtip along his skin.

But had he done it _for_ Granger?

"No," he said.

"No?"

"No," he repeated confidently. "I did it because of you. You made me face myself, and it would have been wrong not to. I did it for every single person it would have wronged. Including you."

She smiled. It was slight, just a gentle turning of her lips, but it was perhaps one of the most honest things he'd ever seen.

"Thank you," she said again.

He shook his head. "I haven't done anything."

She seemed sad to say what she did next, like she was coming clean with some heartbreaking truth. "Neither have I."

 **a/n: I'm about to run out of chapters you guys! It's not done yet but I'm only halfway through writing chapter 27. So please review and spark my muse I promise to reply to every review and answer any and all questions!**

 **anyways,**

 **Scarlett**


	25. Chapter 25

**Twenty-Five**

She kissed him then, because there was nothing else to say, because she wanted to, and it was surprisingly warm how he kissed her back. She kissed him, let her mind wander from the damned world outside, let her hands wander his exquisitely scarred chest.

She'd forgotten how it felt to touch the warm flesh of another person. When had she last felt such tenderness? Want, she could recall, the scent of sex and sweat, lust, greed, rough hands, filthy words, trying to keep a blank mind while being manhandled to another's pleasure, but the affection she felt in the simplest touch at her waist, when Draco touched her hip, it was foreign. It was delectable. She could have curled up and fallen asleep in the feeling, but instead she crawled atop him and delved in for more.

She could feel him stirring beneath her as she rolled her hips, and she decided then that this was what she wanted. Her hands went for his waistband, and suddenly he was holding them firmly in his own.

"Granger," he said gently.

She pulled back to look at him, breathless and blushing. "You don't want this?" she asked.

"No," he said. The hurt settled in quickly, before he could correct himself. "No," he said again, this time holding her to him. "I do want," he said. "So badly. But I want more to know that you're doing this because..."

She relaxed to his touch once more, searched for the rest of his words with him. "You think I'm doing this because you own me?" she suggested, mildly offended at the very thought. She knew he meant well, but to think that she would have ever submitted to him in _that_ way...

"No," he went on patiently, kindly. "I know that's not—" She shifted in his lap, settling back, and he took hold of her hips with a groan, stopping any movement. "I know that's not why," he continued, though he sounded the slightest bit strained now.

"Then what is it?" She smiled encouragingly, and he touched her face and kissed the corner of her mouth.

"I want to know if this is coming from a place of...feeling," he told her, grey eyes imploring yet soft.

Hermione leaned into him once more, whispered the words right to his ear. "Yes, Draco. I care about you too."

 **A/N: Hi! Thank you all so much for reviewing, I appreciate them immensely, and they certainly help my writing along.**

 **On a side note, I'm putting together an 8tracks for this story for my own writing inspiration, and I'll likely publish it in case any of you would like to listen. With that said, if any of you have suggestions, absolutely send them my way.**

 **Anyways,**

 **Scarlett**

 **p.s. In my time zone, I am just making the cut off for today's chapter. It is 11:22 pm**


	26. Chapter 26

**Twenty-Six**

They came together in sweet comfort, her cheek pressed against his neck, her lips at the juncture between neck and shoulder, her legs on either side of his waist. His hands slid over her body, trying to commit her every line and curve to memory; they slid to her hips and moved her against him, trying to reassure himself that she was really there through the very evidence of her weight upon his. She had one arm draped over his back, fingertips mindlessly drawing across the raised, pink scars there, the other hand in his platinum blond hair, cradling the back of his head against her as he kissed under her ear. It was heaven, it was bliss, it was everything he'd forgotten his world so sorely lacked.

It was _Granger_.

She was glorious. He wanted to bottle every breathy little moan, her sweet broken cry as she came, the way she whispered his name as she drew him to that edge, had him diving off after her.

He'd never felt so soundly sated and contented in all his life.

"Would you like me to leave?" she asked.

He was still waiting for the aftershocks to abate. "No," he said. "Stay. I'd like it if you did."

He swore he felt her smile against his chest as she settled into his side. They were naked, sweaty and messy, but he wasn't complaining as he slouched down to be closer, and neither was she.

She was pressing kisses along his chest, he drew mindless shapes along her upper thigh, traced her hipbones with his thumb.

"Granger, can I ask you something?"

She hummed. "I won't stop you."

"Why stay?" It was something he'd been thinking about for some time now, all while they hadn't been on speaking terms. "Why not go back to your parents? The muggles," he said.

There was a beat of silence, and he worried he'd offended her.

"I didn't think I should have to," she replied finally. "If I had left, it would have felt like being forced out of my own home. I belong her just as much as the next witch or wizard."

"Right," he agreed. "But it would have been easier, wouldn't it? Had you just gone muggle?"

"Easier," she repeated thoughtfully. She lifted her head to look at him. "You think you could give up your magic? That would be easy?"

"No," he admitted. "But if it was my only choice—"

"But it wasn't," she interrupted. "We always have choices. I made mine."

He was quiet. Not understanding, not wanting to offend. He supposed she didn't owe him any explanation anyway.

She sighed, warm breath fanning across his cooling skin as she lay down again. "I thought about it," she told him. "And I almost left."

He opened his mouth to ask further. Her hand curled against his stomach. "Almost," she said.


	27. Chapter 27

**Twenty-Seven**

"After Harry was killed, we tried to carry on. We kept fighting, all of us. And when Neville killed Voldemort we thought we actually stood a chance. We thought things were going to change." She'd never had to tell this tale before. She'd ran it through her mind time and time again, but to say the words aloud was far harder than she'd ever imagined.

As she drew a shaking breath and tried to keep her tears at bay, Draco's arm tightened round her. She went on. "But then the massacres started. First Neville. Then the Weasleys." Her cheeks were wet. "Luna and her father. The Macmillans. Cho and her family. Everyone I knew was either killed or in hiding." She turned away. She could recite every headline from then, had the black and white images still gritty in her mind. They'd been splashed across the front pages of every newspaper. Every family slaughtered as an example. Muggle-lovers. Scumsuckers. Mudwallower. Dead. Dead. Dead. She'd heard stories of the parties they threw, the death eaters relishing their victories, her best friend's corpse on the altar like the ultimate game.

She felt sick all over again.

"All of them?" Draco's voice brought her back. "There wasn't anyone..."

"No," she said. "They killed those who persisted. Those who still fought in Harry's name." For a moment, she wondered why she needed to tell him this at all. He would know, wouldn't he?

She felt a rush of disgust and pulled herself away.

"Granger," he said. "Please. I swear, I never killed any of them."

Maybe he was thinking it too then. She didn't know what to say.

The silence stretched on as her mind warred.

"I believe you." She covered herself up to her shoulders and found a pillow for herself. There was a good distance between them now. "It's just..."

"I know." She lay on her back and closed her eyes. Felt his hand touch hers in the rumpled sheets. "I know," he said again. "But you have to understand. In the end, I was rooting for Potter, too."

 **A/N: I'm so so sorry this chapter is late. I was without internet connection for a bit and it was a pain. I hope you enjoyed it though.**

 **Anyways,  
Scarlett**


	28. Chapter 28

**Twenty-Eight**

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

It hurt, from the second she'd left his side, it hurt. But he understood, and while he wanted nothing more than for her to forgive him and move on, he knew that wasn't fair. She needed time. He needed patience. And for now, they both needed rest.

"Okay," he said. "Another time then." He waited; she didn't say yes, she didn't say no. "Get some rest, Granger."

"Good night, Draco."

* * *

He woke to find her still asleep beside him, wrapped in his dressing robe, the dark grey silk spilling like water down her arms and across her waist. She looked more at peace than he'd ever seen her before. Unworried and unbothered.

She stirred under his gaze, her warm brown eyes blinking open to stare at him in puzzlement. As she sat up, the confusion cleared away.

A faint smile graced her lips. "Hi, Draco."

The sound of his name off her tongue did things to him he could neither explain nor understand.

"You'll join me for breakfast?" he asked.

She nodded.

It was likely the last clear morning they'd have. Autumn had settled in to stay, and it was already cold and crisp out, but when she insisted on having breakfast in the gardens, Draco didn't argue. He merely lent her one of his coats and put warming charms on their tea.

He watched her apprehensively over toast, eggs, and sausage, trying to determine where he stood with her.

Merlin. He'd never forget the way she looked at him the night before, right before she kissed him, before she pressed herself against him, all before she recoiled and looked at him like he was something monstrous.

Perhaps he was.

He couldn't fault her anything. As he watched her now, her cheeks pink in the chilled air, her hair a mess of curls, knotted at the nape of her neck, his black wool coat burying her up to her ears and down past her fingertips, he wanted to kiss her once more.

"So what happens now?"


End file.
